


Five Senses, Five Kisses

by WulfenOne



Category: Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WulfenOne/pseuds/WulfenOne
Summary: It's been five years since the Wicked Witch was vanquished. Glinda has grown accustomed to her new life, but longs for something more, and an unexpected visitor gives her reason to pursue it.
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp/Galinda Upland
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. This Is Not What I Planned

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a spur-of-the-moment thing I did because I've been listening to the soundtrack a LOT during this period of lockdown. I had the idea today and bashed this first chapter out in one sitting, which I've never done before (it probably shows). Subsequent chapters written because the ending gave me ideas about how to carry on.

Glinda wasn’t usually awake this late. Being in charge of the Emerald City since the fall of the so-called Wizard was a full-time job – her days were inevitably full of appointments and reports and magical practice, so by the end of almost every day she felt ready to fall face-first onto her bed and instantly enter a deep, pitch-black sleep.

Not tonight, though. She initially could not quite put her finger on why, but then a small flash of inspiration hit her. She held up a finger and did a swift little incantation to bring up the date in front of her, spelled out in twinkling fairy lights which dissolved into the ether as swiftly as they had appeared. She realised it had been five years to the day since she had assumed her duties as the new ruler of Oz.

Alone.

She ran her hands over her face. An involuntary sob hitched in her throat.

_Come along now, Glinda, compose yourself,_ she thought, scolding herself for her weakness. _You both knew what you were doing. She could have stayed with you and you could have gone with her. It’s too late now._

She closed her eyes, knowing that she could easily get to sleep if she used a spell or a charm, but she refused to give in to the temptation, wanting instead to achieve something without taking a shortcut. Elphaba had taught her that struggle was something to be challenged rather than escaped from, even something as small and insignificant as getting a good night’s sleep without a magical crutch.

After thirty or so minutes of tossing to and fro without any success, Glinda decided to simply give up, getting out of bed and slipping on a pink robe to go and find herself a glass of water. She clicked her fingers and the lights of her chambers flickered gently to life ahead of her. She squinted for a moment while her eyes adjusted and then began to make her way towards the kitchen of her quarters. For a moment she considered taking in the view from her balcony, since the vision of the city from its uppermost spire usually didn’t fail to impress, but right now she wasn’t really in the mood. She just wanted to get some refreshment and go to sleep like every other citizen. Sleep was one of the great equalisers, she supposed.

Once she had run the tap and filled her glass, she pointed the forefinger of her free hand at it, infusing it with bubbles that gave it a pleasant fizz and the sharp tang of citrus fruit. It had begun as a party trick, but at some point in time it had become a habit. Now she couldn’t drink pure water any longer, because pure water had taken something precious away from her. Pure water was… wicked.

_Oh, Elphie._

_“Glinda,”_ came a sudden whisper in her ear, making her abruptly jump in fright, a splash of water spilling from her glass onto the carpet and leaving a spreading stain. Taking a deep breath and composing herself, she made a circular motion with her hand and rewound the water back into her glass, drying the carpet and her hand in the process. Where had that voice come from? She hadn’t heard anyone else come into the room, but that wasn’t a guarantee that she was alone. Magic was a funny thing, after all.

“Hello?” she called cautiously. “Is anybody there?”

_“Glinda,”_ the voice whispered again, a little more clearly this time. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Elphie?” she asked, wondering if she had lost her mind. “Is that you?”

_“Yes,”_ the voice said. _“I’m in your room.”_

That was all she needed to hear. She rushed into her bedroom, and to her delight she could smell the delicate scent of the rosewater perfume she had given Elphie when they had first come to the Emerald City as students. Elphie had theatrically rolled her eyes at the gift, wondering aloud just why Glinda had given her something she was never going to wear, only for Glinda to painstakingly explain why it was wrong to question gifts when you could instead just accept them and then give them away when the other person wasn’t around. Elphie had wrinkled her nose at that, a little confused, but relented and took the small bottle anyway, tucking it into one of the pockets of her coat. In truth, Glinda had never expected to smell it again, given Elphie’s visible distaste, so it was a pleasant surprise to experience it. “Elphie?” she called again. “Are you in here?”

“Almost. Turn around.”

Confused, Glinda did as she was asked, and found herself looking at the mirror on her wall. Instead of seeing her reflection, however, she saw Elphaba, standing there looking exactly the same as she had when Glinda had last seen her.

She wasn’t going mad. Elphaba was alive. “I don’t understand –” she began, before Elphaba hushed her.

“I know you must have questions, but I don’t have that much time. The spell is limited to how long I can maintain the portal.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “The short version is this: I had to pretend to be dead so that you could be free. I thought I could live with never seeing you again, but I couldn’t. I had to look you in the eye and tell you that I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Glinda said taking a step towards the mirror. “You know, nobody really talks about you anymore. You’re almost folklore now – something to frighten the little Munchkins with if they don’t behave.”

Elphaba smiled despite the visible toll the portal was taking on her. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or outraged. Perhaps both?”

“If you’d like,” Glinda said, returning Elphie’s beautiful smile with one of her own. “Just tell me one thing – if you could do this, why didn’t you do it sooner?”

“I couldn’t  – not until this afternoon,” Elphaba explained. “It took me two years just to work out how to pronounce the incantation and then another three to get it work properly. This is the first time I’ve tried to project myself this far.” A trickle of blood spilled down from her left nostril, and her brow furrowed before she twitched her head to make it go away. “Don’t worry,” she continued, noticing Glinda’s sudden alarm, “this is normal. Even short projections need a little blood. Magic always has a price, you know that.”

“Elphie, if this is hurting you, stop it now!” Glinda exclaimed. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you –”

“No,” Elphaba said sharply, shaking her head and sniffing back the blood defiantly. “This is the only way you’ll be safe. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” She clenched her fists, her knuckles going pale. “I can’t.”

“You can’t protect me forever, Elphie,” Glinda insisted. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” She took a step forward towards the mirror, reaching out and expecting to feel the cold touch of glass but instead feeling the warmth of Elphaba’s cheek. Shocked, she drew her hand back instinctively before she reached forwards again. Elphie leaned into her touch despite the flickers of pain on her face. “Come home, Elphie,” Glinda said. “I need you here with me.”

“And I need you here with me,” Elphaba replied. “I guess neither of us can get what we want.”

“Elphie! For once do what I ask you!” Glinda snapped. “I’m the one who makes the laws in Oz now, I can make it so that nobody hurts you again!”

“Can you?” Elphaba said sceptically, more blood dripping down her face, this time from her right eye. “You know how people think of anyone who’s different. The minute I stop being folklore they’ll pick their pitchforks right back up again, and they wouldn’t stop with just the Wicked Witch. You’d be blamed for bringing me back, and then you’d be as dead as me.” She raised her right hand and opened it with difficulty, trailing her fingers down Glinda’s cheek. “I won’t let them hurt you. I love you.” She was about to speak again before Glinda closed the space between them and pressed her lips to Elphaba’s own.

The kiss seemed to last both forever and for only a fraction of a second. Glinda felt giddy as she pulled away, her face flushed and her heart pounding as she tasted a faint metallic tang of blood on Elphaba’s tongue. “I love you too, Elphie,” she said breathlessly. It felt so good to say it again, no matter the circumstances. “Please come home.”

“I wish I could,” Elphaba said, turning her head away. Her voice was fraying at the edges and the blood Glinda had tasted was starting to bubble at the edge of her mouth. “I really wish I could. It’s just too dangerous.”

“I don’t care!” Glinda cried. “I just want to be with you, can’t you see?”

“I can see it,” Elphaba replied, before a small involuntary grunt escaped her lips. “It would be so beautiful.” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t deserve beautiful –”

Glinda kissed her again abruptly. “Yes you do,” she said softly. “Don’t argue with me any longer.”

“But –” Elphaba began, before Glinda kissed her once more.

“Don’t. Argue,” she said. “I can kiss you all night. You know I can.” She smiled. “I could do it again, if you’ll let me. Come home.”

Elphaba twitched, her eyes glazing. “I know, but I can’t stay like this much longer, Glinda,” she said, her voice starting to sound like she was speaking through a mask of clay. “It hurts.”

“Then you should go,” Glinda said, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand before she clicked her fingers and plucked a single red rose out of the air, pressing it into one of Elphaba’s shaking hands. “This flower will bloom until I find you,” she explained. “When the last petal falls, I’ll be there to catch it.” She pressed a final kiss to Elphaba’s quivering lips. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Elphaba mumbled, sounding exhausted. Abruptly, her head slumped and she fainted, crumpling to the ground in a boneless heap.

“No!” Glinda cried as the mirror’s surface rippled back to normal, Elphaba’s prone form replaced by her own reflection once again. She could see her face was streaked with salty trails and her nose was running. She wiped at it with both hands and rested her forehead against the glass, trying to focus her thoughts. Whatever had just happened was almost too much to take in all at once – knowing that her Elphie was still alive was incredible all on its own, but seeing Elphie putting her body through such strain just to see her again for a few fleeting moments astounded Glinda. She swore that she would repay Elphie’s faith in her as much as she could.

“I’ll find you, Elphie,” she whispered, kissing the tips of her fingers and pressing them to the mirror. “Even if it takes me the rest of my life, I’ll find you. I promise.”


	2. Voluntary Purgatory

Elphaba looked in frustration at the rose Glinda had given her, angry that it still existed. She had tried to destroy it so many times since she had woken up with it clenched in her hand, furious that Glinda had made a promise to find her when she had expressly warned against it, but it was untouchable by fire, cold, and dismemberment – every time she had used a knife to slice pieces off it, it had simply regenerated back to its original shape, recalling its disconnected parts to itself like a magnet attracting iron filings, and every time she had set it aflame or hit it with a blast of ice it had shrugged them off without even a single scratch or damaged petal. In the end she had just given up and accepted it was there to stay.

“Damn you, Glinda,” she muttered, throwing the rose away only to see it resume gently floating in the corner of her chambers where it had set itself after she had let go of it the first time. “Damn you, and damn your optimism too.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, the beginnings of another headache coming on at the centre of her brows. They were a side-effect of the exertions she had put herself through to open that agonising portal, a pain that split her brain in half like a knife. In the days since she had collapsed holding open that tear in reality she had often wished that she had not given in to her longing and spent so much time trying to get a message to Glinda, but in her heart of hearts she knew she didn’t regret doing it. Not really. It had given her a long-absent sense of joy to see the woman she had given her heart and soul to standing before her again, even for just a few moments. All the years of toil and blood which she had required to perfect that spell had been worth it for those few tender kisses and the feather-light touch of Glinda’s delicate fingers on her skin. It had taken a supreme effort on her part for her not to take that final step through the portal and throw herself into Glinda’s arms.

That was what she _really_ regretted. Glinda had selflessly offered her the chance to be with her again, and she had pushed her away out of simple fear. She had spent so much of her life afraid of who she was and what she could do that it was almost habitual for her to refuse to accept happiness, in expectation of it being torn away from her.

_Enough_ , she thought, defiantly. _You have things to do. They won’t wait for you to get over yourself._ She stood and pulled at the waist of her dress to smooth out some wrinkles, before heading to the back door of the nondescript cottage that she and Fiyero had found for themselves in the centre of a small settlement a few miles beyond the border with Oz. Surprisingly, none of the people they had first met when on the outskirts of the village had been too bothered by her green skin, which was refreshing after enduring years of jeers and ridicule from strangers, and when they got back to the village she saw why. To the north of the houses was a series of waterways connecting dozens of different pools, every one a different, vibrant colour, and every person who worked in them collecting the shellfish and plants they used in the majority of their food had skin the same shade of green as her own. When she had asked about them, the villagers simply said that the pools were full of magic, mentioning that those amongst their ancestors who had originally drunk their waters had passed on those colours to their children, and to their children’s children, all the way down to their current generation. They did not know anything more than that, but Elphaba couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the bottle of green elixir her mother had passed down to her had contained water from these pools. It would explain a great many things, certainly.

With that in mind, she and Fiyero had settled down here as best they could – it helped that the villagers seemed to have no knowledge of the Wicked Witch of the West, as if her story hadn’t spread beyond the borders of her birthplace. She supposed that that really shouldn’t have surprised her, since the campaign to poison her name had come chiefly from the Emerald City and citizens of Oz were not generally known for their desire to travel very far. The hardest part about making a life in the village was keeping up the facade that she and Fiyero were together, even as they began to grow apart. Fiyero had tried to be supportive, but eventually he had realised that she would never love him in the same way she loved Glinda, and had begun looking elsewhere for affection as her fixation on the portal spell became stronger and stronger. In the end he had departed the village with the daughter of a travelling merchant, a note on the kitchen table the only thing he left with her. The note had contained nothing but genuine regret and a desire for her to one day be happy again, with not a hint of anger or malice.

She didn’t hold his departure against him, and would sometimes wonder if he had found what he was searching for. She hoped he had. He was a good man, and he deserved better than to be living a lie with a woman who didn’t share his vision of the future. With Fiyero gone, she had dedicated herself even more determinedly to the task of deciphering the book of charms, chants and incantations which she had brought with her. Some of the spells she already knew, some of them she didn’t, but she was determined to master them all. The smaller spells were trivial to learn, helping her to conjure things like food and trinkets to sell to traders. In winter months her fellow villagers looked to her for a regular supply of firewood and meat, treating her with a reverence and respect that still surprised her.

It was nice to be needed rather than shunned for her gifts, she thought. She almost felt at home in this community where people relied on her so much – she even caught the attention of a young woman with blonde curls and blue eyes, who approached her during one of the village’s annual winter festivals, introduced herself as Freya and struck up a conversation with her as she sat somewhat awkwardly in a corner nursing a glass of fruit juice. Clumsily unaware as usual, Elphaba hadn’t realised what Freya had been intending to do until she found the girl kissing her delicately.

For a moment she had involuntarily kissed back, before her eyes had snapped open and she had mumbled a brief apology before retreating swiftly to her home and slamming the door behind her, cursing herself for her moment of weakness.

In the time between then and now, she had often regretted what she had done. It would have been so easy just to throw herself into the arms of a pretty girl and ignore her troubles for a night, but those troubles would have come back to haunt her again as soon as the sun rose. They were not going to go anywhere, no matter what she tried. 

Right now, however, her immediate troubles were the various vegetables she had planted in the small garden at the rear of the house. They weren’t anything special by any means, but they served their purpose – which was usually her breakfast.

“Morning, neighbour,” came a cheerful voice over the low fence enclosing Elphaba’s garden, snapping her out of her reverie with a start. She looked up to see Freya standing with her arms draped along the top of the fence, a small smile on her face. It had taken a while, but she and Elphaba had become friends eventually – it turned out Freya was a very accommodating person. Besides, she had begun seeing someone else shortly after the disaster at the party, so there was no lingering awkwardness, especially given the length of time which had passed between then and now.

“Morning,” Elphaba said, plucking a few tomatoes off their plants and plopping them down into her basket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Freya chuckled. “Slept that badly, did you?”

“You could say that,” Elphaba replied. “I was up late last night reading. I woke up with my face in a book. Literally in a book – I must have fallen asleep at the table.” She pointed a soil-caked finger at her face. “I don’t have any ink on me, do I?”

“Not that I can see,” Freya said with a wry smile. “I can still read you, though. Something’s bothering you, I can tell. You want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not,” Elphaba told her. “It’s… personal.”

“I see,” Freya said. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where I am.” 

“I appreciate that,” Elphaba said, truthfully, before she unearthed some carrots and put them in with the tomatoes. “You’ll be the first to know.” She paused, suddenly remembering her manners. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know – same old, same old,” Freya told her. “Just taking my morning walk. If only I had a dog.” Elphaba winced involuntarily at that. She still didn’t really like dogs. “Sorry,” Freya continued apologetically. “I forgot you’re not a fan. Promise me you’d still come for dinner if I got a puppy, though? Maybe we could change your mind?”

“Thank you,” Elphaba said, mustering the ghost of a smile. “I’ll think about it.” She gestured at her basket as she got to her feet. “Right now I have a breakfast to make. See you later?”

“Of course,” Freya replied. “Go enjoy those vegetables. You’ll have to show me how you grow those some day.”

“This is just luck,” Elphaba said. “And a little bit of magic.”

“I suppose I should have expected that,” Freya said, laughing gently. “Well, I hope they taste magical too. See you around.”

When Freya had gone, Elphaba went back into the house and started laying the contents of her basket onto the kitchen table, only for something at the edge of her vision to draw her attention. An intensely bright light was shining through the doorway to her bedroom, even managing to outdo the sunshine coming in through the window behind her. Curious, Elphaba made her way towards her bedroom and pushed the door open tentatively, squinting abruptly as the light seared her vision for a moment. When her eyes had adjusted, she saw that the source of the glow was Glinda’s rose, its petals pulsing with energy as it bobbed in mid-air. Then, unbidden, a single petal detached itself and fluttered slowly to the floor, where it shattered into a puff of fairy-dust fragments as the rose itself returned to its previous hue.

Elphaba’s eyes widened in confusion. This was significant, somehow – Glinda had clearly infused the flower with something more than a simple promise. She didn’t know what that enchantment was for sure, but she had a vague inkling that one of her books might just hold the answer. Whatever the case, she suspected that her quiet, inauspicious life here was going to come to an end, one way or another.

_Damn you, Glinda._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a bit of an exposition-heavy chapter, but I thought I was obligated to give Elphaba a bit of history for her five years of exile. Next chapter will be more focused on the present!


End file.
